


Even You

by Liars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lovers to Friends, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Violence, Young Severus Snape, in that order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-20 22:44:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15543801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liars/pseuds/Liars
Summary: She stared at him, critiquing his looks and posture. Despite being far from handsome, she somehow was still attracted to him. She knew in physical attractiveness, he was lacking, but it took more than physical aspects for a woman to be attracted to a man. She wanted him, in both a mental and physical sense. Why? She didn't quite know. Maybe it was because of how he gracefully swept across the floor. Maybe she was attracted to the dangers that would inevitably come with his affection. Maybe it was due to his blatant honesty. Or maybe because the young man consistently had tea time with the Headmaster at exactly two fifteen pm despite his constant complaints of wasting precious time, while he persistently struggled to earn the respect of his fellow teachers despite having no need to prove himself.





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited.  
> I'd like to forewarn any readers that my knowledge of the Harry Potter works is fairly limited, and any suggested corrections in lore and characterization would be appreciated. Since Colette isn't actually apart of the world, there will be some deviation from canon. My fascination with Professor Snape has only recently developed, and I shall endeavor to keep him in character.
> 
> The world that Hogwarts presides in, and Hogwarts itself, all belong to J.K Rowling. Colette is a character I made to fit into that world, as well as some other not important characters.

The aged voice was contemplative, but hinted at an amusement that only the creature had, “Rosier, eh? The last Rosier I had was-”

“Evan,” she interrupted, “But you aren’t supposed to judge me for my family. You are supposed to judge me by my character, Sir.” 

“Do I detect a hint of malice towards your cousin, Miss Rosier?” it asked, yet it did not wait for her response, “Indeed, if it were not for him, you’d likely not be here like this, however who’s to say that it was for the best? You are angry, Miss Rosier, yet you don’t blame the very people who have seemingly stole everything precious to you. Odd. Odd indeed.”

The girl inclined her head in response to the hat statement. Evan Rosier, despite his many shortcomings, was not to blame for the unfortunate and terrible events that occurred. While her father and mother decided to leave Britain because of him and the rest of their family, he was not the one who killed them, and it was only logical that, as a minor, she move across the world so she could live with her next of kin which happened to be her father’s sister. 

The hat rattled on, “Independent. Willing to listen, but strong enough to argue your own point. Intelligent, and generally well spoken. Ravenclaw?”

She questioned her possible placing in the house herself, but honestly, she didn’t see herself as scholarly or particularly creative. While she knew herself to be practical and logical, she knew that academics were not her forte. She scored decently in her tests, but she was far from being the top of the class, nor was she as socially inept as supposed Ravenclaw students. Regardless, she quietly let the hat contemplate her future house.

“Humble and pliant, but I feel as though something great will come of you, Miss Rosier. Something great. But where do you belong? Life would be simpler in Ravenclaw. You would excel splendidly with the right motivation and set standards for many young witches to come. A witch to remember for the ages Or,” the hat felt her twitch unconsciously at the conjunction, and it smiled knowingly before continuing, “Or I could place you in Gryffindor.”

With her interest peaked, she spoke quietly, “And what would await me there?”

“You will face a task that you shall deem near impossible, if you choose to face it nonetheless you will be led down a dark path that you will never leave. Yet there you will find and kindle a small light that could spread like a wild fire.”

“They both seem like good paths,” she mulled aloud, but deep down her heart had chosen.

“Adventurous! Courageous! Bold! You choose the harder path because of the challenges, not the reward. There is no need for contemplation now, this determination and courage belong to no other house. GRYFFINDOR!”

Colette Rosier lips turned up slightly as she removed the hat, intrigued with the path before her. Professor McGonagall took the hat from the newly appointed Gryffindor student with a welcoming smile before summoning her appointed house’s prefect to the room to direct her to her room to settle in. Headmaster Dumbledore congratulated her then shooed her off as he had important work to do. So with bags in hand, the young Rosier set her shoulders and followed her fellow student without a missed beat in her step. As she turned the corner down the hall, away from the Headmaster’s office, a dark figure rushed from the other end of the hall and entered the room she left.

____  
By the end of the day, Colette had completely unpacked her suitcases. Her robes were hung up, prepared for the arrival of the students and the grand feast that was to occur tomorrow welcoming both new and old students alike. She had arrived early, like some of the prefects, except for a different reason. Unlike other sixth year students, this was Colette’s first year at Hogwarts due to her parents recent passing that occurred during her fourth year at Ilvermorny. Her Aunt Felissia, her father’s sister, had let her continue her fifth year at her original school, but after Colette had a argued with Felissia’s husband on the issue of pureblood superiority during the summer, her aunt had begged Colette moved to Scotland with them. At first she believed it was purely because Felissia was concerned about her wellbeing, but she later understood that her uncle wanted to ensure that she hung around the “right crowd”. It had irked her immensely, but she understood that almost nothing would change her uncle and Felissia’s opinion of pureblood witch and wizard superiority, so she took their pestering with a grain of salt. She was nearly of age and would do as she pleased, but would respect their authority over her until she graduated.

In truth and despite the reasoning behind her relocation, Colette almost appreciated the change in environment. Living in America brought up some heartbreaking memories of her parents, and the familiarity of the streets of Boston and her old home tore open wounds she was not prepared to face yet. Thus her coming to Hogwarts was not all that bad since it distracted her from the constant hollow feeling in her chest. 

She surveyed the lands through the window, once more immersing herself in distracting thoughts. She considered maybe flying around the castle to better condition herself to the land, but thought better of it. Everyone was busy with preparing the castle for the upcoming event, and she did not want to bother them or get in the way. Instead she decided that she would just acquaint herself with the basic layout of the castle and figure out where all of her classes were before everything was consumed in the chaos that was all first days in school. Grabbing a basic floor plan that unfortunately did not move with the ever changing stairs, her wand, and a light jacket to slip over her thin white blouse, she marched off set on a quest with no real aim.

Colette had wandered for hours, exploring the grand hall, the bell tower, the hospital wing, the kitchens, the gardens, and the notorious and fairly new whomping willow as well as a large variety of classrooms. Finally she had found the grand library and was absentmindedly perusing through the sections. She had run into students and teachers alike, introducing herself to those who stopped and inquired, and nodding a polite greeting to the ones to busy to pause. Professor McGonagall had inquired about how she was doing before hurrying off to finish. She had met the Head Girl, Guinevera Velander, a doll faced girl from Ravenclaw, who insisted that Colette contact her if she needed anything and that the new Gryffindor had her deepest apologies that she could not give her a tour at the moment as she was just about to board the train that was to pick up the remainder of the students. 

Just when she finally found something to page through, a dark shadow was cast over her shoulder making her tense up. Before she could even turn around, a deep voice confronted her, “Who are you and what are you doing? The only students that should be here are prefects, and even those dunderheads are about doing their duties.”

Colette whirled around, taking a step back to assess the person confronting her. He was tall, and his black robes billowed about him making appear even paler than he was. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and he looked like death itself come to grace her with a particularly unpleasant ending. His hair, long and lanky, hung around his face barely around his chin. He flashed his yellow and crooked teeth in a scowl that would likely scare most people out of their boots. None of that compared to the nose he possessed though. It hooked downward and looked as though someone had walloped him quite well in the past due to a prominent bump on the bridge.

“I will not repeat myself again,” he warned her in a dangerous tone, hand on his wand, and she quickly snapped her attention onto his eyes.

Not one to start a pointless battle, she conceded, “My name is Colette Rosier. Sixth year transfer. I thought I would be somewhat productive while I waited for the year to start, so I decided to acquaint myself with the school.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore never mentioned a transfer to me,” he spat out, but withdrew his hand from his wand.

Colette stared at him curiously, wondering why the young man would assume the Headmaster would care to inform every student of her arrival, so she questioned, “And why, pray tell, would he inform every single student of my arrival? I’m not even that important.”

She had thought he looked murderous before but quickly understood that his anger now did not even compare to that of before, she felt like cowering at first but held her ground and feigned confusion. The man seemed to shake before her while somehow remaining eerily still, and for a second she thought that maybe it was just her shaking in her boots. She willed herself to relax completely while still maintaining eye contact, ignoring every instinct that told her to run.

“I am not a student, Miss Rosier, and clearly you aren’t even intelligent enough to recognize a teacher, let alone important enough to be known. Now go to your dorm and wait for tomorrow before I start deducting points from your house!”

Colette knew she had made a mistake, but she didn’t understand what exactly his problem was. Was it such a mistake to think him a student when he was so young and clearly misinformed? 

“I apologize, sir. Gooday,” she said slowly, not wanting to run off like a scared little child while at the same time not wanting to linger and get into more trouble.  
She carefully put the book she had taken out of the shelf and put it away. As she left she felt a pair of dark boring holes into the back of her head, and she winced at her own stupidity. She had left her map in the library, and while she did do some perusing of the school, she wasn’t well enough acquainted with it to know her way around without a sort of guide. Biting her lip, she decided against facing the angry professor and decided that she would find the way to her room somehow even if it took a couple hours of wandering.

_____  
Colette had watched as students filed into Hogwarts, some lagging behind while others rushed forward excited for the new school year. She, herself, felt the same mixture of emotions for the new school year, and even though she was expected to arrive in the grand hall, she found herself naturally stalling against the inevitable. 

She had done everything to clean her designated space and her own person, wanting to leave the best first impression and putting off meeting her new peers. That being said, she also did not want to come off as too neat, so she had left some things like her pens and an open book on her desk. Her fairly dark brown hair was pulled into a neat side braid, but she let some of the shorter hairs fly free. Her robes were smoothed out and well fitted, not too tight or baggy, too long or short, but they were not ironed so that the folds and edges were not completely crisp. She refrained from makeup, not wanting to appear as though she was trying to hard or particularly excited about the opening event. After giving herself one last look over in the mirror, she felt like a different person. Her light brown eyes, she felt, looked empty and sad, but she knew she would be okay. She was prepared, more so than her first year at her other wizarding school even though she felt more vulnerable than ever. 

She steeled her shoulders as always and marched out of her dorm room into one of the halls that had more traffic then followed the bustle of workers and teachers alike into the grand hall. The four long tables lined the room, running perpendicular to the teacher’s section. The tables were lined with plates, silverware, glasses, candles both floating in the air and on the table, and pitchers ready for the opening feast. She directed herself to the Gryffindor table somewhere near the middle front. Some of the teachers filed in, seating themselves in what appeared to be designated places while others leaned over their sitting peers and talked amongst themselves. 

None of the prefects were there as they likely were helping guide the students, and thus she was all alone. Some of the teachers who she had introduced herself to noticed her presence and greeted her with a smile or slight wave that she politely returned, while others who she hadn’t met before were content to throw glances at her then direct their attentions to conversations elsewhere. She, herself, once done greeting those she knew, found herself analyzing the teachers and workers who walked in and out of the room. Professor McGonagall had yet to be seen, nor was the Headmaster or the mysterious young professor that she had surely embarrassed in the library. She assumed, of course, they too were guiding students to and fro.

In her musings, she too preoccupied to notice the sound of thundering feet approaching the hall. The sound of the main doors swinging open, though, drew her gaze pointedly to the group of students filtering in. There were such an array of faces, that for a moment, Colette felt very overwhelmed, but just as quickly as it started, it faded. The students began filing in in groups, and she felt very thankful when the Gryffindor Head Boy she had heard about from the prefect took the opportunity to approach her. His name was Marric, a light haired boy with bright hazel eyes and masculine facial features. He stood a half a head over her likely one seventy five (5’8), somewhat short for a boy, but compensated for his stature with his muscular physique. His teeth were straight and pearly white and his angled jawline was sharp and strong, making his face all the more attractive.

“Miss Colette Rosier, I presume,” he drawled with a charming little smile while holding out his hand. “I am Marric Bastien. Delighted to make your acquaintance.”

Colette put on her best smile and shook his hand lightly, giving it a small squeeze, “Good evening, Marric. The pleasure is mine as well. You can call me Colette if you’d prefer.”

Her eyes scanned across the group that had joined them. There was a total of five people, six including Marric. Directly on his sides were a boy and a girl, while two boys and one girl discussed their summer enthusiastically. Before pausing to actually see the girl in front of them. None of their faces were particularly daunting or rude, and she smiled kindly at them all.

“Well, Colette, may my friends and I sit with you this evening? I want you to feel welcome in the Gryffindor house, as I know it must have been hard to move across the world and change schools.”

“It is definitely different, but exciting nonetheless. Anyways I would be extremely pleased if you guys would dine with me. I was somewhat worried I wouldn’t get much of an opportunity to meet anyone in the night with all the events that are to occur.”

“We Gryffindors must look out for each other, Colette,” he tsked teasingly, and his friends all motioned to sit around her. Once everyone was settled, Marric began introducing his group. 

The girl that stood beside Marric was Rylan Moore who also was a seventh, and one of the boys who chatted with the girl behind Marric, Gregory, was her sixth year brother. The Moore siblings were fair skinned, thin, and tall people, both towering over Marric at one eighty (5’ 11). They had dark rimmed bright silver eyes and full pink lips with soft angled faces with hair that was such a light brown that looked almost golden in the candle light. The boy that on the other side of Marric was the famous seeker, Johnathan Eric Prewitt, a ginger haired boy with dark jade green eyes and a face full of freckles. He too stood quite tall at one eighty-two (6’), had sharper facial features, and a bony body to match. Regardless of his slightly pointy features, he held a confidence in his stance that rivaled the Moore sibling’s elegance. The two others were twins, Belinda and Wess, and were also Marric’s younger siblings. They too were in their sixth year and mirrored Marric’s handsome looks, except that they were only just slightly taller than their older brother and literally seemed to glow with excitement rather than the calm confidence that Marric possessed. 

In truth, the bunch were astonishingly beautiful people whom Colette assumed bunched together simply because of their looks, but as they continued to talk, she further understood that despite their pretty looks their personalities were not lacking in beauty either. Rylan was ever patient with the Bastien twins’ babbling about their exciting summer of adventure, and Johnathan gladly chatted with Gregory and Marric about how quidditch would likely go this year. Both groups within the group were quite inclusive to the newcomer, and she didn’t feel as though she was intruding at all. The twins listened with rapture every time Rylan asked Colette about America, and the quidditch obsessed boys enjoyed discussing Ilvermorny’s teams with Colette and debated on which school would win if they schools had a tournament against one another.

Everything was going fine until the Headmaster entered the room with the mysterious young professor. Everyone got quiet and a scowl seemed to grow deeper and deeper on the young teacher’s face. It almost seemed as though half the students were staring at him in shock, while the other half began to whisper to their clearly more knowledgeable counterparts. Even some of the teachers even seemed to gawk at the man. Colette didn’t understand just why everyone seemed so interested with the dealing of the dark haired man, but resigned herself to figuring it out later. As the first years started to filter in, the direction of attention changed, but not for Colette. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t the only one staring, and dark furious eyes met her own. Her face flushed a bright red, but she shrugged her shoulder apologetically. He didn’t seem to care however and sneered at her anyway. Thankfully, he eventually diverted his attention elsewhere, and proceeded to glower at everyone else who’s existence seemed to irk him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited.  
> I'd like to forewarn any readers that my knowledge of the Harry Potter works is fairly limited, and any suggested corrections in lore and characterization would be appreciated. Since Colette isn't actually apart of the world, there will be some deviation from canon. My fascination with Professor Snape has only recently developed, and I shall endeavor to keep him in character.
> 
> The world that Hogwarts presides in, and Hogwarts itself, all belong to J.K Rowling. Colette is a character I made to fit into that world, as well as some other not important characters.

Severus was furious, but after every trial he clawed out and through he had learned to bite his tongue. He would get his way in time, he just had to be patient. During his mandatory conference with Dumbledore, he was informed oh so cheerily that his classroom was being relocated to the dungeons. The decrypt and cheery fool had started their meeting with a discussion on the weather as he poured the young man a cup of tea, and then waited evilly for Severus to take a sip before breaking the news. The dark haired professor almost spat the hot tea in the headmasters face, but stopped himself by swallowing it. The liquid rushed down the wrong pipe, making him cough and sputter, instantly regretting not drenching the other man in his spit and tea instead of facing this painful coughing fit. 

Albus had continued nonchalantly as though his employee and spy was not dribbling out of his mouth as he coughed up his lungs, “Argus has had all the preparations made already. Did you know that Mrs. Norris had a litter of kittens over the summer. Quite adorable little things, but the whomping willow caught a few of them when they started exploring the castle grounds. Poor things. Argus was so heartbroken for poor Mrs. Norris that he collected the rest and made sure they all were adopted by good safe homes.”

Severus had grabbed a napkin off the table and coughed harshly into it, taking deep breaths in between hacking. Dumbledore sipped his tea and babbled on about the other teacher’s summers and drama, and by the time the young potion master was capable of speaking once more, the chance to question the older man was gone. It was a dirty trick, and he was going to call Dumbledore on it, but the man didn’t even give him a chance to talk. Soon enough he found himself kicked out of the room as the older man claimed he had business attend to, and was left with the parting words of, “Don’t have too much fun, Severus.”

Which left him where he was now, standing outside Dumbledore’s door, slightly shaking in rage. Not only was he the only Slytherin teacher that was responsible for two hundred and fifty sniveling brats beyond his normal classes, he also had to deal with the belittlement of his fellow teachers and headmaster. He expected hesitance and distrust, but he did not expect he would be treated any less than the other professors. He had a brilliant mind, had created original potions and effective hexes, and was “integral to the success useful to The Order of the Phoenix” as Albus had so eloquently told the Ministry as soon as they came looking for former deatheaters. He had proved his mettle, but now they were shoving him in the dusty dungeons that were bound to collapse over his head as soon as a student heated Erumpent horn and Aromantula venom a second too long.

Severus breathed in deeply to calm himself. Obviously by the way Albus approached the topic, it was not something he had any chance of changing so for now he would have to live with it. He had work to do, especially since his classroom had been moved without his notice. He had to make sure all his instruments were safely stored and relocated. He had to go over his lecture notes and make copies of his syllabus so that he didn’t have to waste precious teaching time on idiot questions like whether he would provide extra credit or extend deadlines, and most importantly he had to go over the summer homework he had yet to reveal to the poor fools thinking they would get through his class unscathed. His peers may not respect him for the brilliant mind that he was, but he was sure to demand and garner the respect of every snot nosed fool that thought just because he was younger than most teachers, he would be easier to get through.

\----

The only reason she found the potions room was because Belinda knew the castle like the back of her hand. Why they decided to put a classroom in the dungeons was beyond Colette’s comprehension, however it only further diminished the reputation of the professor even further. Putting an angry dead looking young man into the freezing dungeons was a surefire way to ruin his already damaged image. True to her curiosity, Colette managed to figure out why the dark haired professor was the hot topic to gossip about. Rumors had it that he graduated from the Slytherin a couple of years ago and had even roomed with her cousin, Evan, and just like her least favorite cousin, he supposedly was a deatheater according to the rumor mill. It wasn’t surprising considering everyone that willing associated with her recently departed cousin had the tendency to enjoy everything bad in life. However knowing all that, Colette was not quick to judge the young teacher. He was allowed to teach at Hogwarts for a reason, and Dumbledore, the leader of the group that stood against the Dark Lord, backed up the younger man unconditionally, so there had to be something good about him.

Regardless, she didn’t quite understand why Belinda had dragged her to the dungeons when the class wasn’t supposed to actually start until 30 minutes, “Why are we here so early again?” Colette sat down in one of the middle rows, not interested in sitting up front. Belinda sat behind her, and the dark haired girl swiveled her chair around to chat with her new friend.

“Because I just know that that man will use every single little mistake against us, and I don’t plan to give him any free opportunities to dock us points,” the hazel eyed girl responded.

“Why would he pick on us like that?”

“Because he hates the Gryffindor house, and he is just a miserable wanker. And if that isn’t enough proof, he’s a Slytherin. You of all people should know how they are.”

“He’s a teacher first, Bell. It would be so unprofessional to play favorites.”

“How optimistic of you, Colette,” the other girl chortled, “I hope you are right. We’ll be the first to know, I guess. Huh. I wonder where Wess and Gregory are at.”

“They did say they would meet us here early.”

The door flew open behind Belinda’s shoulder, and Colette’s eyes zoned in on the doorframe. The long haired man strode in without missing a beat, robes sweeping after him. He met her eyes blankly, then looked over to the other girl in the room. Belinda turned around to, and after seeing who it was, abruptly turned back to face the front of the room, giving Colette a hard stare. The other girl didn’t understand the hint her friend was giving her and continued to stare openly at her professor.

“Good morning, Professor,” Colette stated, unsure whether or not she should follow her friends lead.

The dark haired man, for whatever reason, took this as an opportunity to berate her in a gruff voice, “Seat forward, Rosier, this is a classroom, not a playground.”

“Good morning, Colette,” she replied to herself quite openly, but did as he said.

“Colette, have you lost your mind? Don’t be smart with him,” Belinda warned in a whisper.

“Open your books to page twenty-five and begin reading,” he instructed while facing the board and starting to write.

Belinda stared at his back confused, and Colette obliged silently. Belinda wondered what she had got herself into by trying to be early. She knew soon after meeting Colette, that the brunette had a particularly sharp and witty tongue with usually no intention to bite. The other girl just loved to tease people, enjoying a good verbal debate, but once it turned into an argument, she all but ran away. She was shocked when Jonathan had baited her by talking crap about the Ilvermorny quidditch team in the Gryffindor common room. He had joked about the Thunderbird seeker, and Colette hard thrown it right back at him, questioning his choices as the Gryffindor seeker. His immediate response was pretend to get offended and begin sputtering, which had sent Colette reeling backwards and apologizing profusely. However, as soon as he begun laughing his head off, Colette joined in in good mirth.

This time, however, was not the time to be witty and humorous, and Belinda prayed that Colette realized this. Professor Snape was not someone to joke around with, especially if one had already insulted him. Colette, however, had already surmised this, and tried to keep a tight check on her tongue. She could tell by the way his shoulders were set, and how he had burst into the room that he was not in the mood to be messed with, but she couldn’t, for the life of herself, understand why he was always so angry. It wasn’t like they had been particularly rude to him, and her mess up was a little mistake she had apologized for. Did he really hate Gryffindor so much because he was Slytherin? 

“Miss Rosier, if you can’t follow even the simplest of instructions, there is no reason why you should be in my class.”

“Sir, class hasn’t even started yet. We’ll be way ahead of everyone else if we start now,” Colette reasoned, watching him very carefully.

Belinda didn’t understand why her new friend was pestering the obviously temperamental young teacher. There was no winning in annoying him. Colette tapped her fingers on the table in rapid succession, watching his posturing carefully. What would he do next? What would he say? Would he get angry or would he ignore her? She was playing with fire, and Belinda saw right through her. 

“I am just supplementing your clearly lacking brain with the necessary knowledge so you might have the slightest chance of passing my class, Miss Rosier,” he retorted calmly, although his posture said otherwise.

Colette was going to say something; Belinda could practically see the gears in her head turning, but once more the doors flung open, and a sleepy eyed Wess and eerily graceful Gregory walked in. The hazel eyed girl almost sighed in relief. For once in his life, Wess had good timing. Professor Snape, with his back turned, didn’t acknowledge their existence, and they didn’t bother him either. Colette noted that they were not targets. Gregory sat down next to her with practiced grace, and Wess all but plopped himself into the seat next to his sister who whispered something lightly into his ear. 

“Good morning, Wess. Good morning, Gregory,” Colette greeted with a smile on her face.

Gregory laid a painted smile at her slightly and inclined his head and whispered lightly, “Good morning, Colette. I’m sorry we left you with Bell for so long, I couldn’t convince Wess to leave his bed. I do hope she didn’t talk your ear off.”

Colette grinned knowing that she could easily rival Belinda in how much she talked and whispered jokingly back to the silver eyed boy, “I know everything about Belinda now, even what she ate last Tuesday at two fifteen.” His eyes sparkled in mirth, and once more nodded at her.

“What are you two conspiring about?” Wess asked throwing his arms around the people in front of him.

“I was just informing Colette that she might want to wear her jacket down here, it gets a little chilly,” Gregory replied with a calm face and a friendly smile, the picture of innocence.

Wess glared at him in suspicion, but allowed it to slide after Colette engaged him in conversation. Asking about his morning and his roommates, and what his next class was even though she already knew. Belinda joined in enthusiastically, noting that the Professor was absorbed in whatever he was doing up front, and for whatever reason had let them off the hook. Gregory leaned back into his chair and listened with a patient smile etched carefully onto his face. They discussed their plans for the day, how they should sit together during lunch, and properly show Colette around. As they chattered away, the rest of the class began to slowly began to filter in. Some looked terrified just being there while others were cautious in their approach, but when they noticed the group of friends quietly chatting amongst themselves in front of the Professor, they commenced their own conversations.

Soon enough, Colette ran out of things to say to her newfound friends, but Belinda and Wess easily kept up the conversation. She followed Gregory’s suite and simply became an active listener, but her mind began to wander. Her eyes looked at the clock, and it was almost two minutes until class officially started. Their teacher was just staring at a book open in his hands, no longer facing the board he was huddled around during the last twenty minutes. He didn’t look angry, although his lips seemed permanently downturned almost as though he was sad. She wanted to careen her head to see what he was reading, but he abruptly look up as though he felt her eyes on him, and she redirected her gaze to the board. She could feel his eyes burning into her as she scanned the board like she was reading it, and she didn’t want to meet them or look anywhere else lest she look guilty. 

“Colette,” Gregory interrupted, the first thing he had said since excusing their greeting to Wess.

Her eyes snapped to his, eternally grateful for the out, “Yes?”

“It is interesting that he tells us to bring the contents to a simmer, stir clockwise three times while scraping the sides of the container,” he spoke slowly, as if seriously contemplating it. “The book says to stir before the contents start to simmer, and refrain from agitating the sediment adhering to the sides.”

“Maybe it is a trick to know who remembers last years exams?”

Belinda joined in with a fairly loud whisper, “Are you guys really debating on whether or not our teacher is trying to trick us into failing on our first day?”

“I mean, Bell, you were the one who said-” Colette as interrupted when all at once papers flew onto the desks seconds before the clock tower started chiming, everyone was silent at the sound of rustling papers until Colette’s mouth decided to run, “Well that was effective.”

Professor Snape’s eyes shot over to her, and she shrugged apologetically while motioning to the papers and nodding as though it was an impressive feat. He couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm, or it was genuine amazement. She spotted his confusion and almost giggled in amusement, clearly he didn’t understand that by just moving, he had garnered the attention of all the students and got them to shut up. He strode from one side of the room to the other, and everyone waited with baited breath for him to speak. It was quite the scene, to Colette at least, to witness the power he controlled.

“This is Advanced Potion class. My name is Professor Snape and I will be replacing Professor Slughorn, as you were informed yesterday. If you are in the wrong classroom, leave immediately,” no one went to stand and leave so he continued, ”Laid before you is the syllabus it should answer all your questions concerning this class, its expectations, and the coursework. If you have questions concerning the class, first refer to the syllabus. If it is not answered on the syllabus, take a moment to consider your question and ask yourself, ’Will Professor Snape want to wring my scrawny neck for wasting his time with this question?’ If the answer is no, then feel free to approach me during my office hours or after class. I shouldn’t have to tell you what to do if the answer to the question is yes.”

Colette barely managed to not snicker. It was one thing to be silent and dangerous, but usually the ones that barked a lot had a lot smaller bite. This Professor Snape had a flare for the dramatic, and liked to intimidate and dominate. He wanted to win, and nothing amused Colette more than a person reaching for power so drastically and obviously and actually being successful at it. She just wondered if this was a room filled with adults, would he still act the same.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The humor is short-lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited
> 
> Marric, Gregory, Wess, Rylan, Belinda, and Colette are all my creations. Two of those characters are of real import while the rest are just for character diversity and comedic relief. Everything and everyone else is Rowling's.

If there is one thing that Colette had to admit she appreciated about her potions professor, it had to be his passion for his work with potions. He was a true scientist, calculative and creative, something that everyone noticed as he discussed proper brewing techniques that sometimes altogether contradicted their past instructors or academic books. Of course, he could be insane and lying about how heating at a specific angle produced a better result, Colette reasoned, but since he taught at Hogwarts, one of the highest ranking schools for witches and wizards, he had to have some sort of talent in the potions industry. He spoke about crafting potions as though it was so much more than just a recipe for a result; it was a continual experiment to achieve something better than its predecessors. 

That being said, he made for a terrible teacher. Maybe if he was working alongside of someone of his own caliber he would be a little bit better than insufferable, but instead he was trapped in a room full of hormonal teenagers that he more or less considered the bane of his existence, especially anyone from Gryffindor. While he definitely captivated the students’ attention with his genius, everyone other than Slytherin students was to afraid to actively participate in the open lecture because of his tendency to be unusually cruel in his berating. A curious question was a stupid question, a correct answer was considered obvious or the student was a know-it-all, and god forbid they didn’t know the answer or they were a complete idiot. There was no way to win except by getting away unscathed for the day. Colette hoped he was just having a bad day, and it was just an exception, but she had a feeling otherwise.

Class was finally drawing to a miserable end when he had finally called on her, and her amusement had run dry a few moments ago when the irritation finally started to seep in. He was unfairly critical and was obviously venting his frustrations on his students who had no where to run. Colette did not appreciate conflict, but she could not stand bullying of any sort when the victim was someone other than herself, and she found Professor Snape very much guilty of bullying every house but Slytherin. 

“Rosier, in what two potions are aconite used in?”

Colette’s mind reeled, “Any two sir?”

“The most readily accessible,” he replied, clearly irked. She almost scowled at him, sure that this was a trap.

“The Awakening Potion, also know as Wideye Potion, and,” her lips thinned as she was smiled and paused.

“And?” he insisted, and she couldn’t think of any actual potions used in class, but she knew the answer she had in her head was correct. It WAS more readily accessible, it could be bought in the streets and alleyways cheaply but not without risk.  
She desperately hoped she kept her face straight and innocent, “Pain’s Bane.”

“Not what I was looking for, but I am intrigued. How, Miss Rosier, do you, a student, know about something that is on the market, legally, that is?” he asked with a condescending tone as if she admitted to using it, and her suspicions were almost confirmed. He chose this question because she knew the answer and had to respond or be berated for being stupid.

He had purposely baited her, she just knew it, and she was almost seething with rage. Some of her classmates looked at her with questioning eyes, while other stared at her suspiciously. Gregory squeezed her knee in warning, but for what, she didn’t know. She could admit how she obtained such knowledge, but she didn’t want to. If she didn’t though, the rumors that could spread would be atrocious. She had only wanted to fit in and have fun, but now he had dredged up a particularly painful bit of her past that wanted nothing to do with it. Why was he doing this? Was he some sick sadist intent on making the people he was obviously forced to deal with suffer alongside him?

“Professor, clearly you asked a question and I am reluctant to not respond. A close family member used it on a regular basis for medical purposes,” she evaded the question, trying to pin the blame elsewhere. Everyone had an estranged lunatic in their family, maybe she could play it off.

His next words sent her lit her blood like fire and confirmed that this was a direct attack, “So the recluse of the Rosier family ran away to the United States because he was ashamed of his addiction?”

“Not that it is any of your business, but my father left because he thought himself a hinderance to the Order. My cousin’s involvement with deatheaters and my father’s connection to the Headmaster made him a primarily target. You Know Who made him an example, thought he would give in, but he was strong enough to hold out till he was rescued. Stronger than the curse that eventually left inexplicable damage to his brain than caused his pain receptors to activate at random and cause him to live through the torture all again. His addiction to the drug numbed the pain so that he would remain lucid throughout the horrific relapses. He wasn’t useful to the Order with his injury, and they couldn’t protect us from potential threats, so we had to leave.”

She wasn’t sure if the professor was silent because he was shocked at her announcement, or he was infuriated that she told him he was prying into things he had no business in. Her father, despite all his failings, was a good man that had suffered greatly simply because he was related to the wrong people. He didn’t deserve to be judged by people who didn’t know him like she did. He may not have stuck around for the war because of his condition, but he still was an essential piece to its beginning. Colette was shaking in rage ready to lash out like an cornered animal with no escape when the clock tower bell rang. Belinda touched her shoulder from behind, likely to comfort her, but it was too much. She shoved her papers and quill into her bag and stormed off before they were dismissed. No one followed her, and she had some time before her next class, so she went to the bathroom to calm down.

Why did he have to ask her such a stupid question? Why did he press? How did he have the nerve to accuse her father of falling victim to a drug for despicable reasons? He wasn’t addicted, it just alleviated his pain so he wasn’t begging and screaming while soiling his pants. She could remember one time, before they left for America, that he had an episode without being drugged. He had screamed over and over that he knew nothing and was not involved. He had writhed on the ground, blood smeared on his hands, head, and ground from the fall, screaming nonsense and clipped phrases repeatedly until his voice cracked and gave out of him. Her mother ripped her away from her broken father and had locked her up in their room of their small house, but through the thin walls she heard his thrashing and cried along with him. It took hours before they managed to obtain the drug and inject it in him, and she wondered why they didn’t just knock him out to put him out of his misery. Later when her mother came back with tears in her eyes, she had explained the atrocities her father faced and at her persistent question, replied that if they put him under during one of the episodes, he might not wake up again. When he was finally fit to see her, all bandaged up and bruised from where they had restrained him and he had injured himself with his thrashing, he had cried at the sight at her. She had thrown her arms around him, crying herself, and he kept apologizing as though it was his fault. The moment had scarred her, and when she was older she had come to respect her father more than anything.

Her hands pressed into tight fists as she leaned over the sink, and she refrained from hitting the wall beside her. She had to go to class, and if she didn’t take these moments to settle down now, she would end up going into her classes and make a terrible first impression. Her new pack of friends didn’t share the upcoming class with her so she needed to avoid being moody as much as she wanted to silently stew. She prided herself on the control and general logic, her appearance was carefully tailored and her remarks were always probing, but she had allowed some rude man unhinge her. It was humiliating. Despite getting more and more amped up, her hands relaxed and her posture straightened. She had noticed he gained satisfaction from his dramatic display of intelligence and power, and was not going to further his sadistic pleasure. With a huff, she looked sized herself up in the mirror and plastered a grin on her face. To hell with him. She was going to make friends and become popular, and he would never ever again see her enraged by his words. There was no way a bully was getting ahold of Colette Rosier!

\---------

Her next class flew by in a breeze. Herbology was something that Colette excelled at, and though they hadn’t started gardening that day, her confidence in that class gave her that little extra boost that helped her in making a few friends that she could at least sit with throughout the remainder of the quarter. There were a few people from other houses that saw her outburst last class, and while they did stare a bit, they didn’t say anything, except for a few select Slytherin students but they kept it to themselves, content to whisper. After herbology there was lunch, however, but before she had the time to explain to Wess, Belinda, and Gregory about her little outburst. Marric had grabbed her by the shoulders and asked her how she was liking Hogwarts. She omitted potions class and gushed about herbology while Marric made faces, and explained how it was his least favorite class because he killed everything he touched, and everyone else laughed with the older boy as he explained the time he had single handedly killed a greenhouse full of Chinese Chomping Cabbage. Through the laughter, she almost completely forgot about Professor Snape until she saw him march in, trailing behind the Headmaster. Her irritation peaked, but she didn’t let it show on her face. She couldn’t understand why Dumbledore, a prime example of kindness, allowed such a wretch to ride his coattails.

Her eyes snapped back to the conversation, and she smiled, but she felt the probing eyes of her fellow sixth year friends. She couldn’t bare to meet their eyes, and continued to play along. Marric was plenty useful, but eventually he left to sit with Johnathan and their fellow quidditch players, thankfully he took Wess with him who seemed to be the most obvious with his concern. Rylan, however, surprisingly replaced Marric in leading the conversation and successfully made it impossible for either Belinda or Gregory to question her. The older girl discussed their futures, talking about potential opportunities they should take to further their educations and successfully pass their N.E.W.T.S. Never before had she been so thankful to another human being. Belinda, being as studious as she was, invested all her attention into the older girl while eating, she was just short of taking note of every word spoken. Gregory however, in all his calm, seemed as though he was staring through Rylan. Occasionally he nodded and added a helpful point to his sister’s lecture, but when he wasn’t blankly looking at the older girl, he stared at Colette with sad eyes that made her uncomfortable. 

Rylan spoke just long enough to make all four sixth years rush to get to their next class, and the crisis of confrontation was averted again. McGonagall went on longer than the class time allotted, and they had to all rush to their separate classes. Everything happened so perfectly, Colette would have claimed having immense luck except for the event that occurred in the morning. She lagged behind in her second to last class so she wouldn’t have to get to her other one early and face her friends, but knew that her time was running out. Belinda seemed vibrating by the time their final class eventually ended, and Colette almost felt like crying. Wess waved goodbye, having to meet up with Marric and the quidditch crew so they could start prepping those who were interested in trying out, and it almost seemed like she was clear until Belinda blew up.

“I’m so sorry, Col-”

“Don’t be, I shouldn’t have fallen for some stupid trap.”

 

“No, not for that. I mean, yes for that too! But I went and told the Headmaster what happened. I was just so angry that he was so rude to you. It is one thing to insult a person for their stupidity, but that was a low and personal blow that he had no right to pull!”

“You what?”

“I’m sorry!”

Gregory’s soft tone interrupted, “Bell, you shouldn’t have involved the Headmaster until Colette explained to us.”

“But you were angry too! We all were. It’s not fair that he tried to paint her as a bad person then do the same to someone she loved.”

“Stop. It’s too late and it doesn’t matter now,” Colette responded, feeling tired. She wanted to get back at Professor Snape herself, not through tattling on him. Now, he’d probably feel stronger knowing that it really got to her.

“But-”

“Bell, she said it doesn’t matter, give her some t-”

“PLEASE! You need to know this. I really am sorry, Colette, I didn’t mean to tell. It’s just I had run into him before class, and he had asked me how I was doing, and I spilled the beans the second he got me to look into his eyes.”

“It’s fine, Belinda, I am not mad. Really.”

“No, that’s not it. He wants to talk to you after dinner.”

Colette groaned, and Gregory looked at her pitifully, “Am I in trouble?”

“No! I don’t think so at least, but I think he wants to get the full story.”

“Belinda!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Ugh! It’s fine.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She listens to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited.
> 
> J.K Rowling owns and created the Harry Potter world, most characters, settings, and creative things are hers to keep.

Despite Belinda’s attempts to assure her that she wasn’t in trouble for being snappish towards a teacher, Colette dreaded her meeting with the headmaster. Albus Dumbledore was renowned for his intelligence and patience, but everything was still so new to Colette that she didn’t want this sort of attention on her. Sure, she wouldn’t mind hashing it out with Professor Snape and putting him in his place, but it wasn’t as though tattling to the headmaster would be the same as destroying him herself. It was irksome. However it was the situation she was stuck with so Colette forgave Belinda for the blunder more or less with ease. Belinda had been extremely kind and accepting towards her in the past few days, and being included was one of the very few things the new girl needed the most.

As she marched up to the headmaster’s office promptly after dinner, she wasn’t as angry as she was worried. Each step felt as if a brick was hefted onto her shoulders, her feet fell slowly on the stairs, and her head hung slightly. What if they contacted her aunt? What would she say? From what Colette had surmised, Aunt Felissia believed she was sorted into Slytherin like any other Rosier, and the last thing she wanted was for someone to break the news to her on top of a run in. It wasn’t like her aunt’s husband needed any other fodder to use to attack how she was raised and her parents. The more and more she thought about it, the more she felt trepidation. Eventually, like all things, her journey had come to an end at the foreboding tall door of his study. Her fingers twined before her nervously before she set her shoulders and put on a blank face. With a knock that echoed in her ears, and she waited with her eyes closed, a picture of calm.

A muffled, “Come in! Come in,” was the signal, and Colette inhaled deeply then exhaled while opening her eyes, putting one hand steadily on the door. 

It opened and once more, she was in Albus Dumbledore’s quarters for the second day in a row. Before she had been nervous about being sorted, now she was nervous for another reason altogether. The man, her judge, jury, and executioner, stood behind his desk with his back to her, cradling something in his hands. She entered, fully aware that he knew she was there. Still he continued to do whatever he was doing, occasionally raising his hand to his face. She considered coughing or choosing to sit down, but thought better of it. Maybe he was waiting for her to spill her side of the story in the silence, maybe he was busy with whatever he was doing, but if he didn’t want to talk right now, then she wasn’t going to either. Something like silence was not going to make her crack and act guilty for something she wasn’t. Despite her supposed calm, her eyes widened considerably when he turn around abruptly with a smile on his face and candy in his hands. 

“Miss Rosier, would you like a lemon drop?”

Her mind was absolutely boggled, “Pardon, sir?”

“A lemon drop. It is a muggle confectionery,” he replied nonchalantly.

Colette wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh or to cry at the situation, “No thank you, sir.”

“You are missing out, Miss Rosier. Oh yes, please do take a seat.”

This man, the one that started the Order of the Phoenix that rebelled against the dark lord, was one of the people that her father suffered inexplicable torture for. She was baffled. There she was in his office, ready to be reprimanded for sassing a teacher, and he was offering her candy. Sure, this wasn’t as serious as an insane man spreading mudblood propaganda, but it seemed fair to assume that such a mastermind would take all his responsibilities seriously. If this was America, they would have publicly paddled her or made her write an official letter of apology that she was forced to recite in front of the class. He, however, as happily eating lemon drops and appraising her. As soon as she made eye contact with the man, her mind somewhat short circuited, focusing intently on him. He had kind eyes, and she felt as though she was staring right into his soul; a soul pure, innocent, and benevolent. Most would be lulled into a false sense of security once they were sucked in, Colette, after getting her bearings, was set on edge, feeling almost twitchy. No one as renown as Dumbledore was innocent or pure, and knowing her family as she did, the ones who tried to pull such a persona were rotten. It had to be a trick.

His eyes sparkled in mirth, and she felt as though he was reading her very thoughts. It was uncomfortable, and while she tried to shield her emotions from her face, she felt her brows trying to draw together in worry. Goosebumps covered her flesh. She felt his eyes on her, burning into her own, and she faintly felt as though she wanted to cry. Was he enjoying this? What was amusing about this situation? Was he trying to break her? Was this really the man that her father sacrificed so much for? He seemed amused, and it almost felt that he was inwardly laughing at her expense.

“Colette, it is not good for your health to worry so. You are not in trouble,” he replied in soothing tone, and almost as though a switch was shut off, she was final able to break the stare and the feelings that somehow had taken over her.

Her mind snatched onto the conversation, quick to distract herself from her thoughts, “I don’t see why I should be, sir. I was baited. Anyone would react as I did.”

“It takes a lot of courage to stand up against those you perceive as hostile to others.”

“Perceive? Headmaster, I don’t understand.”

“Despite what you may assume of Severus, he did not know anything about your father’s situation. In fact, no one knows about Malachi Rosier’s condition other than a few select individuals and myself.”

Colette was dumbfounded, “Then why did he ask me such a question?”

“It is his job to test students on their knowledge, Miss Rosier.”

“Sir, it was a pointed question, he could have asked me anything, but he pursued the topic adamantly. I find it hard to believe that after he bullied the other students in his first class, he so innocently asked me a question that was purposefully supposed to bite.”

“You are telling me that he was purposefully picking on each of the students in his class by humiliating them with personal insults?”

Colette’s mind raced, “I mean he didn’t pick on everyone, he left out-” She stopped herself, thinking it best not to point out he was obviously bias towards his house. “No, sir, I suppose he didn’t insult everyone. But you believe it was just a coincidence?”

“I know Severus may seem harsh at times, Miss Rosier, but he acts in the students’ best interest. He just believes that sometimes they need a firmer hand to guide them sometimes.”

“But why did he keep inquiring further when it made me obviously uncomfortable?”

“Pain’s Bane is not a legal drug, Miss Rosier, as a teacher, it is normal to be concerned for a student who had knowledge of it, especially since its ingredients are a large mystery to most innocent individuals. In addition to that, he is a scientist. He is vastly curious about a lot of things.”

It was hard to doubt those eyes when they were drawing you in so soothingly, and while warning bells rang in Colette’s mind, she felt herself slowly giving way to doubt, “I suppose so.” 

“We had a discussion earlier today over tea as we always do. He did not intend to soil your father’s image.”

“He said so?”

“In the only way that Severus can.”

Colette clenched her teeth, staring off into the distance in thought. She couldn’t think of a reason for Albus Dumbledore to lie to her. Sure she had just gotten into a spat with her teacher, and it reflected poorly on them both, but not all students liked their teachers and vice versa. There was no reason that he should feel the need to rectify the situation especially since neither party retaliated after the incident. It would be easier to believe that Professor Snape didn’t know and therefore meant no harm, but in her head she kept replayed the scene, recalling him saying her father, “the recluse”, ran away because of his addiction. Was he just a brash man? Did he not know that it was impolite to call people recluses and accuse them of cowardice? It was hard to believe, but then again his choice of company in his youth was lacking if he hung around her cousin and his crew. Dumbledore stared at her in that mysterious and almost cheery aloof way that she pegged as fake.

“If I am not in trouble, sir,” she started, “and Professor Snape isn’t either. Then what am I doing here? If it was just a simple misunderstanding, then couldn’t we have just fixed it ourselves?”

“I am doing this for both your sakes. Severus can be brash, Miss Rosier, and more often than not he pushes people away when he attempts to rectify a situation. I believed an intervention was necessary so the situation did not escalate.”

“Headmaster, forgive me for what I am about to say, but how is he supposed to learn if you do it for him?”

“It is possible, but I have seen his severity hurt not only himself but others close to him.”

“I do not know him like you do, I suppose,” she mused quietly. Her eyes once more met his blue ones hesitantly, and he met her gaze with kindness in his eyes. Once more she felt warning bells go off in her gut, but she couldn’t break the stare. It became harder to breath as she felt the panic start to creep in, but he turned around and broke off the eye contact by placing the lemon drop container to the side. 

“Since we have come to an understanding, Miss Rosier, may I ask how you are finding Hogwarts? I had meant to talk to you after being sorted, but I prior arrangements promptly after.”

“It’s quite lovely, sir, and everyone has been very welcoming.”

“That is good. Very good! If you ever find yourself in need of help, ask and you shall find it even the most dismal times.”

Colette’s brows furrowed in confusion but she nodded her head regardless, “Thank you, sir. Am I to conclude that I am dismissed?”

At his nod, she stood up and smiled at him. Albus Dumbledore was an odd man, and she felt he was the sort that carefully contemplated his each and every word. Maybe he was truly a kind man, and the cheery but aloof persona was not a mask, but either way he was powerful, and had people hanging off his every word. All too easily could he destroy the lives around him unintentionally, and that likely made her antsy around him. Never again did she want to be called to Dumbledore’s office.

\------

Despite having cleared the air, Colette was not looking forward to going to potions class. Her friends had kindly decided that they would not arrive early like the day prior so they could avoid any possible mix-ups that could occur before class, so they stayed for a long breakfast in the grand hall. However they could not put off the class forever, so they left the hall with just enough time to get there right before the bell chimed. Unfortunately, they were not the only ones with the same idea. As they rounded the corner, right across the hall from them stood Professor Snape in his billowing black robes. He too had just turned into the hall. Colette had been asking Belinda about Hogsmeade when they made eye contact, and her voice hushed instantly.

Colette felt her face flush, embarrassed about the event that took place after spending some time to think about it. Really, even if he had meant to be rude, she should have held her ground proudly instead of storming out. Regardless of their eyes meeting, she continued on marching forward. Her friends, however, did not get the hint, and stood watching the stare off. Belinda’s mouth hanging wide open glancing between the two, Wess snickering beside her, and Gregory analyzing the situation carefully. A scowl formed on the young professor’s face, and Colette grimaced. Coughing towards her friends to get them moving. Belinda all but ran into the classroom, Wess lingering behind with Gregory dragging him along. The scowl deepened even further.

Her cheeks burned, but she stared him straight in the eyes, “I am sorry for acting out last class, Professor.” He blinked, once then twice, and Colette continued slowly, “I was under the impression you were trying to humiliate me in front of the class by bringing up my father’s condition. I don’t know if you meant it like that, but if you didn’t I really am sorry. It must have been quite the shock.”

He clenched his jaw, and she thought she saw his eyebrow twitch. She grimaced a bit more, but waited for his response. She couldn’t understand what he was thinking. Was he mad? Was he confused? Had he actually meant it and now he didn’t know what to say? Or had he gotten over it and her conversation with Dumbledore made it seem like it was a bigger deal than it was? Her mind reeled, and she felt even more embarrassed than before. The bell rang, and she all but jumped in surprise. Despite it, she didn’t run to class but continued to wait.

“Get to class, Rosier, we don’t have time to cater to your pointless blathering,” he spat, then entered the classroom while leaving her behind. 

Colette ground her teeth together, feeling humiliated once more, but kept Dumbledore’s words in mind. Severus Snape was not capable of properly addressing social situations, and the bite to his words might not be intended to be as such. She didn’t think she should let such rudeness slide after she went out of her way to apologize, but there was no point in being bitter about it. It wasn’t as though she was going to be forgiven for being snappish, nor was he going to apologize for accidently bringing up something that hurt her feelings. Head held high, she set her shoulders from their slump position and marched into class now late. If it was any consultation, he didn’t deduct points from her like she expected.

\--------

Classes proceeded on like the first day, if only a little bit toned back. Professor Snape no longer saw it fit to humiliate students who were so clearly afraid of him, and Colette wasn’t keen on starting something after the first talk with Dumbledore over something so minor. It was fascinating to watch him teach, but only because he was so passionate about potions. She, herself, had no real interest in the art, but she appreciated the results and the efforts he put towards it. He lectured about various methods to speed along the process of potion making by taking effective shortcuts, and scribbled every little side note down, knowing that it would likely be useful in the future for the labs they would have to do. Her diligence paid off splendidly when it came to making the famous the draught of living death mid quarter on a Friday, however he did not see it as diligence. By the end of class, he seemed very irate, and students cowered in their seats. When the bell rang, everyone was rushing to clean up and run. 

“Rosier,” he called her at the end of class time. Everyone was scattering, quick to leave the room, but her friends lingered. She stared up at him, the hands that were putting things away frozen holding her notes. With a scowl, he friends too left the room in a rush, throwing apologetic looks at Colette.

“Your potion, like every other student in this room, was a failure.”

“Wasn’t that expected? You said earlier in the class that we wouldn’t finish it today, and that we would all fail to make it.”

“You crushed the beans instead of cutting them,” he said, staring at her intently with blazing eyes.

Her head cocked to the side, confused, “And?”

“The book specifically says to cut the beans, Rosier.”

“I know, sir, but-”

“Let me see your book, girl!”

She dropped her papers with a scowl, pulling her textbook out and marching over to him with it in hand. The book was all but snatched from her hands, and a pair of eyes glared at her before paging through the book intently. With a huff of frustration, he threw the book down on his desk and paced like a caged tiger. Colette watched him carefully, unsure what his deal was.

“Is that the only book you have referenced, Miss Rosier?”

“Yes, sir, but-”

“I do not tolerate cheaters or liars!”

“Good because I am neither! What is your problem, sir?”  
“Only one person knows how to correctly brew a more potent version of draught of living death! You would only know if you had saw or read something!”

“Professor, I don’t mean to be rude, but you aren’t the only one,” she begun to rant.

He cut her off, “What an arrogant child. I have seen your work before, Rosier, I am neither blind nor stupid.”

“Sir, if I may speak for but a minute, I can explain! I even have proof before you say anything more.”

“Of course, go ahead and prove yourself guilty. I am waiting.”

She glared at him, wanting very much to throttle him. She grabbed her notebook from her bag and all but threw it at him. Luckily for both their sakes, he caught it and was so intent on learning how she knew a better way of creating the potion that he didn’t deduct points for her temper. Her scowl increased at an alarming rate as he paged through her notes, and his face got more and more angry.

“You would only know these things if-”

She cut him off this time, “If I took your class! You taught us these things. Mentioning them here and there. Every stupid little word in that notebook is me scribing everything you say to us. I assume since I am a student, I AM supposed to learn from you, no?”

“You mean to say-”

“I mean to say I listen to you when you teach! I know I am not the best student, but I listen and I repeat. If you say that it is more beneficial to crush Sopophorous beans rather than cut them, I crush the damn beans! If you say to stir more, you can bet I will be stirring the damn thing until you say stop! I’m sorry for taking your advice and respecting your knowledge. Next time I shall completely disregard your expertise,” she hissed, pointing her finger at him and leaning closer at her word to emphasize her point.

“I don’t recall stating such things to you or the class,” he growled at her, but doubt began to fill his eyes.

Her voice dripped with sarcasm, “Well forgive me for your faulty memory. Sometimes you are a bit absorbed. I don’t know what I am supposedly cheating with, but maybe you should compare my notes with the rest of the class. I am sure someone else has a couple of your added rants in there. I, unlike them, use those to my advantage.”

“Maybe I will, Rosier. You aren’t out of the clear yet.”

“Then go ahead! See if I care when you prove ME right.”

“One point for your insolence, girl.”

If she was mad before, now she was absolutely furious, “You taking away points from my house, doesn’t prove I am wrong, sir!”

“Make that five!”

“You are so immature! You always get angry when someone disobeys you! It isn’t fair! I am tired of sitting back and letting you walk all over other and myself when we haven’t done anything to you!”

“Ten points.”

She scoffed, “Oh fuck off, Professor! Take a bloody hundred! See if I care!”

“And detention with Filch for using foul language!”

“Bloody fantastic! I FUCKING love Mrs. Norris, you twat!”

His face was red, and so was hers. Her chest heaved up and down and she considered just screaming at him. What was his deal? He was tower over the desk, leaning and looking down at her, and she was scared to death but her anger took over. She wanted to just lean over and headbutt him, they were close enough as it was. His body was all tensed up, and she wondered vaguely if he would hit her. If he did, she had every intention of giving it right back.

“Fine then, detention with me for the next month on the weekends in the morning. You’ll be scrubbing phials till your fingers bleed!”

“I’m absolutely ecstatic! Then I get to pester you so much since you just love the company!”

“Shut up, Rosier!”

“Make me! You just have to have the last word. Well you know what, I am not letting you win this one!”

His hands slammed into the desk, and he yelled in frustration. She knew he wanted to kill her. Hell, she wanted to kill him. His hand raised up, but a knock on the door made him freeze mid action. A curious gryffindor first year student peaked into the room, and his hand dropped. They both took stepped back, both realizing what almost happened, and the student stared at them wide eyed.

The child squeaked, “I’m sorry, Professor! I just had a question that I thought I could ask before class!”

Colette’s hands shook as she snatched her book and notes from his desk where he had tossed them, she didn’t make eye contact with the first year, but instead kept them trained on her teacher, not once turning her back to him. The young professor glared frosty lasers at the youth at the door, who was frozen in fear, which gave enough time to Colette to pack up. Despite his harsh stare however, both students realized he was shaking as well.

Colette voice shook in quiet anger, “You need to learn how to control your temper, Professor.” Her eyes glanced quickly at the student, and grabbed them by the shoulder, pulling them close to whisper in their ear, “Don’t tell anyone about this or he’ll be absolutely furious.”

Her housemate unfroze, and stared at Colette with skittish eyes before nodding and squeaking quite loudly, “I won’t tell a soul, I swear!”

Colette nodded coldly, then once more stared into the dark haired wizard’s eyes. She scowled, and she thought he flinched the slightest bit before she walked out the door. She had to practically run to her next class before she was late, and even then she couldn’t get her hands to stop shaking. Her heart raced and she felt a pressure that seemed to rise in her chest.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colette takes some time to contemplate and bemoan her brashness. She notices a pattern when it comes to Snape and her interacting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited.
> 
> Rowling owns the Harry Potter World, I've only inserted a couple people in there.

Colette dreaded every minute that passed because it all led to her impending and inevitable demise. Anger did not allow her to regret her words, but logic told her she was doomed for cursing and spitting at a teacher, let alone one as absolutely wretched as Severus Snape. To her, it wasn’t fair. He had called her out after class to accuse her of cheating, but even if she did use another source, it wasn’t as though it had done the work for her. The whole creation of the unfinished but supposedly potent potion was testament to her hard work and her efforts in paying attention. Even if she did follow a recipe from a different source, that shouldn’t have set him off when all the other students used their textbooks. She was absolutely antsy for the rest of the day. With a large amount of effort, concentration, and a large enough distraction, she could stop her hands from their near constant shaking, but the tension in her chest remained. It was terribly hard to focus throughout class, and she avoided her friends during lunch by hiding out in the library, however she could only run for so long. In transfigurations class, she walked through the door promptly when the bell signaled its start, and stayed longer to ask Professor McGonagall questions after to avoid the interrogation she knew was to come from her friends. Gregory, as always, seemed to know her mood and more or less dragged the twins out of the room with one good and commanding stare, and Colette thanked him with a terse nod. 

Professor McGonagall seemed to know something was up and inquired about how she was feeling to which Colette replied in the best chipper voice she could muster. Her teacher seemed doubtful and reminded her that she could come speak to her if she ever felt the need; she had even placed her hand on the young girl’s shoulder and gave her a pitying look which Colette smiled kindly at and thanked her. However the sympathetic look annoyed the girl, but most likely because she was already in a bad mood. She knew that it was a sweet and kind that the older woman expressed concern, but at the same time, she hated pitying looks especially after seeing it so often when people talked about her parents’ deaths. Regardless of her teacher’s attempts to find out what was wrong, she slipped away without spilling her guts. 

The girl spent hours in the library, trying to sort through her thoughts. She had finally managed to calm down enough to not be spitting mad, but it lingered inside her chest like a gun that shot a misfire, the trigger had been pulled and it was just waiting for the worst possible moment to reignite and fire. She was afraid of Professor Snape, mainly because of the rumors of the crowd he ran with. After seeing the results of what happened to her father, she wasn’t keen anything remotely close happening to her, but she was quicker to anger than quicker to run whenever it came to him. It was pathetic, just a week or so ago she was intent on not letting him goad her into losing her control but the moment he berated and accused her, she lost her wits. 

She rubbed her fist into eyes and lectured herself in frustration, “What am I supposed to do?”

One questioning look from fellow students studying sent her packing her things up and relocating elsewhere. It was late as it was, almost time to turn in if she didn’t want to get in further trouble, but she shrunk away from the idea of what awaited her at the dorm rooms. If the youngster who walked in on them tattled, she’d end up with another Dumbledore meeting which she did not look forward to. She couldn’t bare those kind blue eyes, if she stared at them too long she’d end up crying either out of fear or sadness, and that was not something Colette was interested in sharing. She and Professor Snape would be the talk of the week, and everyone would want to know what went on. What drove a teacher at Hogwarts to hit their student when physical violence was practically unheard of there. Her aunt and uncle would have to be involved and then who knows what would happen. Maybe they would send her back to America to live with the phantoms she saw walking the streets merrily, or maybe they would send Durmstrang Institute, a horrifying thought indeed. Her teeth grit together, and she once more rubbed at her eyes ferociously. 

Then there was a whole separate matter of the detentions. Clearly she couldn’t be around him if she wanted to avoid conflict. The man was an absolute terror, and she reacted impulsively around him despite her best wishes. Skipping the detentions would possibly prevent the conflict for a time, but it was like putting pressure on an amputated limb, it may delay death for a while but the person would still bleed out. At first he might be relieved from not having to deal with her presence which so easily irritated him, but Colette knew that he would take her avoidance as disrespect. The only way for her to get out of it would be if he canceled it, but she had already tried to be nice to him and that didn’t work, and being rude just made him even more angry. So she was at a stalemate. Her mind swirled around the options, but they all seemed bleak, and next thing she knew, the sun no longer shone in the sky. Her time was out, and she had to return to the dorms before she got into trouble. 

Belinda was sitting in their dorm room on a bed, book in hand, awake and waiting even though Colette returned just before the last signaling bell. As soon as the light haired girl heard the door shut, she jumped out of bed and pounced on her shorter companion, crying something quietly into her shoulder. At first, it was shocking to Colette for a moment, but then she was simply touched that the other girl cared enough. Of course, they were friends, but everything was still new, having only known each other for about two weeks, and she had not expected much support from any of her newly acquired classmates. Reality, however, was far from what she predicted in this case, she noted, as Belinda all but tried to squeeze the life into her. 

“He passed by us at lunch and started questioning us about you! We almost thought he did something to you until you finally showed up in Transfigurations, but then Gregory said you wanted space. And THEN you didn’t show up for dinner, and Wess got so angry that Jonathan and Marric pulled him from the dining hall. Rylan and I were worried, but Gregory kept insisting you were fine so we didn’t round up a searching party.”

“I’m sorry, Bell. I’m just a bit mad, and I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s okay. It’s just we were so worried! Are you okay though? He didn’t do anything?”

She remembered his hand raised in the air and pulled away from the other girl so she wouldn’t feel her start to shake, “I am fine. He just had a temper tantrum and accused me of somethings, I didn’t respond in a nice way.”

“That’s all? When he came up to us, he looked outright murderous, Colette! He was almost shaking, though he tried to look calm and collected. It was absolutely terrifying. Gregory was the one that talked to him, I don’t really know what he said. I was scared.”

“He’s a teacher, Bell, he wouldn’t do anything that bad,” Colette responded nonchalantly, but she wasn’t all too sure if it was the truth, especially now. “I lipped off a bit, and he deducted some points and gave me detention.”

“Oh, he is always taking points, but detention? I mean he has threatened to give Wess detention for being stupid and loud, but I don’t think he has actually ever dished it out. When and with who?”

“I’m not really sure. I mean, at first he suggested Filch for an unknown amount of time,” and paused when Belinda gasped and considered just stopping there, but the words slipped out of her mouth, “but then he said I have it with him on the weekends for this upcoming month.”

“Oh Colette, what did you say for him to do that?”

The scowl that had been a constant throughout the day stared to form again, “Shouldn’t you be wondering the why before the what? It was retaliation! I gave him plenty of opportunity to hear me out, and he kept going. I mean he never even actually accused me of anything or gave me a chance to respond properly until I started getting angry. I mean, don’t you try to resolve the problem before you start arguing? I was guilty in his eyes straight off the bat.”

“Oh you know I didn’t mean it like that, but why then? What did he accuse you of?”

“Cheating on the potion and then lying about it. How? I don’t know. It wasn’t as if it was a closed book test. Plus no one else even touched my potion. I think he was just mad and took it out on me, like he does with everyone else, except this time he was at the end of his rope. That man is insane.

“So he accused you, wouldn’t let you ask or explain yourself, and you snapped?”

“I am not one for conflict, Bell, but I am not going to just take it. If I could have left, I would have.”

“I know, Colette, I just think there should have been a way to avoid it?”

“Belinda, I didn’t do anything wrong. I mean I didn’t cheat, he had no right to speak to me like that, and when I proved him wrong, he deducted points away from me for, what was it, oh yes, ‘insolence.’ Is it insolent to point out the truth? I mean, sure, I was rude, but he started it, and I finished it.”

“Oh god, Colette. Finished it? What did you do?”

“Nothing. I just yelled at him a bit. I don’t want to talk about this, Belinda. I am just getting riled up all over again, and I had just finally managed to calm down.”

“I’m sorry, I know you didn’t want to talk about it, but the conversation sort of just drifted that way, and I am and was wondering what had happened between you two.”

“I barely even know what happened myself. It’s fine, I suppose. I just don’t understand why he gets under my nerves so much. I’ve met plenty of rude people in my life. My uncle is absolutely horrid, but Professor Snape is just so aggravating. I can deal with his annoying tendencies when they aren’t focused on me and tack it off as immaturity for being a young teacher, but then he gets all touchy for no reason like a madman! It’s ridiculous! It is one thing to strut around and act like the big bad man, but then he becomes an absolute lunatic.”

“I don’t know, he is pretty much the same all the time.”

His rage filled voice popped up into her mind and she compared it to his berating of a student, and she shook her head no, “It isn’t the same. You didn’t see him in the library when we first met and today. It is like he is two different people. One hour he’s just a regular grumpy prick and the next he’s a raging asshole.”

“If you say so.”

“You just don’t understand.”

Colette began getting ready for bed, and Belinda went back to her own, every once in a while peaking at her dark haired friend. Their other roommates were in the common room doing whatever they pleased, and the silence tore at Belinda’s mind. Her fingers twitched, and she kept herself from continuing her barrage of questions when clearly the other girl had no interest in it. Colette looked absolutely tired, her shoulders drooped down, and her arms hung limply at her side when she wasn’t moving them with purpose. Despite the seemingly relaxed state, Belinda could see that every once in a while she would shake. Concern overwhelmed Belinda’s mind, and she wasn’t sure she should go to comfort the other girl when she hadn’t responded to their first hug. 

She had noticed something peculiar about Colette, and at first it was endearing, but now it was concerning. The other girl was calculative and withdrawn despite trying to come off as extroverted; she obsessed with maintaining a likeable persona while trying to seem as though she wasn’t trying too hard. She wanted friends, and she wanted to excel, but her efforts, while successful, only seemed to make it harder on her. Little things could throw her off, like if she thought she had wrongfully hurt someone or had responded in a way that seemed uncharacteristic from what she expected others thought of her. To simply put it, Colette was a people pleaser, not because she wanted something from them, but because she genuinely wanted to be friends with everyone. However despite her tendency to be a suck up, Colette also had a tougher side. The girl was witty and quick to strike when she knew she could without repercussion, and Belinda was sure that if Colette was backed into a corner, the girl would attempt to destroy her offender which was her major concern. If Colette could not befriend Professor Snape, as Belinda assumed the girl had tried with her constant friendly greetings and patience towards his brutish behavior, she would switch to a offensive state that would likely create further conflict. The girl lived in a constant state of friend or foe, with the in-betweens being hesitant friends, and Professor Snape was erring dangerously close to being a foe if he wasn’t already. 

The worst part was that for whatever reason, this situation was particularly stressful for Colette. Belinda had seen Colette tell off some Slytherins before with a vast amount of courage and wit then move on with her life without even taking a breath, but for some reason whenever she had a spat with Professor Snape, or even a remotely negative reaction, the other girl looked visibly drained. It didn’t make a lot of sense. The dark haired girl went out of her way to be friendly with the Professor within the last few weeks when everyone else ignored him, and she had even bit her tongue on more than one occasion without Gregory or herself acting as her filter. She was trying so hard to be nice to him when she had written off every other inconsiderate bastard she had met, and Belinda, for the life of her, could not understand why. Why was Colette trying so hard to be understanding of him? Why did she care that there were two sides to the Professor? He didn’t matter in the big picture. They would graduate in two years, and he would be a blip in their future, unimportant and forgotten. 

Belinda spoke timidly, “Maybe you should just do the time, stomach the humiliation and move on with your life.”

Colette’s voice was exasperated, “Bell, what do you think I have been trying to do all this time?”

There was a long pause, almost as if Belinda was considering it, but then she spoke once more quietly though her smile gave her away, “Well, you have been doing a terrible job.”

Colette snorted, exhausted and almost deliriously amused, and broke down in a fit of tears while chortling, “Well, thanks.”

 

\-------------

The only reason she decidedly marched herself over to his classroom in the dungeons was because she was kindly reminded by an owl with a slip, officially informing her of the time, place, and proctor. The night before, after giggling and crying with Belinda, she had decided to damn the consequences and make whatever excuse she could to get out of it. She had even made a list.  
1\. Professor, you said the morning, but not the time.  
2\. Professor, you said next month.  
3\. Oh, Professor, I thought you were joking. I mean you never have joked before and you were acting so ridiculous. How was I to know you were serious?  
Depending on what he said, and what mood he was in, she would reply. If he was only mildly mad, she would play dumb, but if he was furious she would work her way down the list. Unfortunately the slip covered all her excuses in one go, and she had no more brewing in her mind. Blackmail had crossed her mind for a second, but it was quickly scrapped off the list. She knew that he would naturally assume if she wanted to get him into real trouble, he would have been summoned by Dumbledore by now, and there would be no need for her to be there. Thus bluffing that she would tattle was pointless, and therefore she found herself shaking in her metaphorical boots in front of the classroom door unaware of what was to await her. Hopefully he would simply make her clean phials like he had stated, but she doubted that that would be all after the fiasco between them. 

Time was running out quickly, and she was going to be late if she didn’t push open the door and enter. While she had all the bravado in the world when he was yelling in her face, she didn’t have the courage to face another month of detention with him for being late, and her house didn’t deserve being deducted anymore points for her stubborn fear. She found it funny and pathetic that yesterday she did everything she could to calm down, but now she desperately wanted that anger to serve as her courage now. Even reminding herself of what he accused her of and how he reacted didn’t raise that feeling in her chest any longer, and all she felt was dread.

It was stupid and frustrating to be scared of him, but she couldn’t control it anymore than she could reign in her anger. The bell chimed, marking the hour, and she felt her stomach drop as she berated herself in her mind for not going. She was officially late and now would have to pay for twice, but now she was angry, at least at herself, and she clung to the feeling when she flung open the door. It opened, slamming against the wall and making her flinch. Her eyes stayed shut for a moment too long, and she felt her cheeks redden. Where was the girl who told her Professor to ‘fuck off’? Her posture snapped taught, her face pulled tight into a scowl and her eyes popped open all at once, but it was pointless. No one saw her embarrassment, no one even saw her false courage. The room was empty except for elegant scrawls across the chalk board and a confused girl.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colette assumes a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited
> 
> Most everything belongs to Rowling.

It took her a bit longer than just moment to process was going on, or to put it plainly what wasn’t going on. The room was empty, and he wasn’t there. He had officially scheduled her to serve detention with him for the next three weeks on every Saturday promptly at seven am, and he didn’t even have the audacity to show up. Colette wasn’t sure whether she was grateful or furious. He could have sent someone else or informed her he couldn’t make this session, but instead he left her anxious for nothing. If she were petty, she would have used this moment to do something downright dastardly to his classroom, but she wasn’t one such things unless provoked. Regardless, she was alone and confused, but relieved that she wouldn’t have to deal with his moodiness and her own snappish tendencies that revealed themselves around him. 

Her eyes zoomed onto the elegant scrawl on the side of the board, it was a list of things that needed to be done; some of them were crossed out. The list while short and concise had no small tasks. Each chore was tedious and annoying, ranging from cleaning to lab prep for students. She assumed it was work for her to do, seeing as there was no other instructions or sign of dismissal. Of course the work was simple, something easily completed with a scouring charm or two and a bit of creativity with a locomotion charm, but he had so kindly stated in their argument earlier that he was going to make her clean physically. Ergo she would literally be scrubbing till her fingers bled as he suggested. In addition, the amount of work he had written for her to do would take way longer than her required two hours, and she found herself conflicted once more. Would she do all the work and prevent further conflict, or would she be baited into wasting her time while avoiding his trap? Staring at the clock, and staring at the list of chores, she grimaced and decided not to make any rash decisions yet. She would do her time required time and finish everything she could then decide if she needed to stay longer.

Cleaning phials was not the worst thing in the world, but it took time. If anything, Colette appreciated cleaning by hand a bit more than the average person. It felt as though she was actually doing something, that she was accomplished, something that was not achieved with the simple twist of a wand, however her hands did not appreciate the hard and tedious work. Most of the glasswork was simple to clean with a quick one or two over with the simple detergent that was hidden under the sink. Then popping them in an oven to prevent contamination was all there was to it, but not all the potion making equipment was glass. Some were rock like material that grime stuck to, embedding itself in the crevices, and one had to scrub deep and hard to get them remotely clean. Colette had her sleeves rolled all the way to her shoulders, elbow deep in one metal cauldron when the jostling of scraping pushed her hand ran against something sharp. 

The girl jumped backwards, dropping the sponge that was in her hand into the water, as blood ran down her elbow and dripped onto the floor and onto the sink head. She turned her hand to the side and hissed, wondering at the lengthwise cut along her hand while cursing her terrible luck. Fortunately, it wasn’t deep, just long and clean, making it bleed far more than it should. Holding her hand high in the air, she looked around for a clean towel, and wrapped her bleeding hand with a hiss. When she found one, she shakily wrapped it up with her teeth and other free hand before grabbing her wand. Smooth and curved cypress wood in hand, her eyes were drawn to slowly reddening cloth. She tried her best to recall what charm she needed to heal such a wound, but the only thing that she could think of was episkey. It was not the recommended spell by far, and while Colette preferred to use the right tool for the job, she couldn’t think of any better in the moment. Her wand bounced in her hand and with a whisper the wound knitted itself shut. The sensation was odd, not quite painful, but it left an itching feeling that made her skill crawl. It also still stung in same place, though it wasn’t as strong. With another twist of the wand and a quiet, “Tergeo,” the blood was gone, and she was as good as new. She lifted the cauldron from the deep sink, water splashing around, and found the blade that had sliced her. It was the same blade that they had used for the last potion class, and she found it ironic that the same thing she avoided using that practically put her into this mess reared its ugly head to attack her once more. With a strained chuckle at her luck, she returned to cleaning the remainder of the cauldrons after replacing the water.

It took her about an hour and a half to clean all the utensils properly, wipe down the tables, and dust. She crossed those things off the list with a satisfied nod of her head knowing she had cleaned everything up in stellar time considering she was by herself and doing everything by hand. However, her next task was not so straightforward and easy as the words suggested. “Set up labs for second years” was vague at best, and she gritted her teeth in frustration. Of course he wasn’t going to make it easy, but why would she have to waste valuable time trying to figure out what lab it was and how far she was supposed to set it up? It was frustrating, but with a bit of scrounging through his desk drawers, she found a syllabus for his second years and deduced what they were doing. She helped herself to one of his textbooks in his bookshelf, and left both the paper and the book on his desk sprawled across his once neat and tidy desk that she mussed in her search for a hint to his vague words. Finding the ingredients would not be the issue, Colette knew that Snape was meticulous in his organization of his things, but she had not counted on him making this even more difficult than it was already. The ingredient cabinets were locked, and she glared at them from her elevated position, from standing on a chair. 

Her hand once more moved to her wand, and her hand twirled in a backward s shape, whispering, “Alohomora,” but to no avail, the lock did not budge. She understood the necessity of needing to lock a cabinet full of ingredients that were both expensive and, in some cases, rare, especially from prying and curious hands, but he could have at least given her the key. Once more she found herself scouring his desk and wasting precious time, but to no avail, it was not there. Her eyes glanced at the list once more, and she hesitated. There was only a few things left, all of which were simple, but she had almost fulfilled her required detention time without dawdling even a little bit. What she had accomplished was far more than what should have been expected of her, and he had to be at the least, surprised that she stuck it out this far, but the nagging voice in her head insisted that whatever she did would not be enough for him. Her teeth grit at the prospect, and she glared up at the list that was almost completed. It was almost done, with just another hour or so, she would have crossed out every little word, and while that may not satisfy him, it would satisfy her. He challenged her to a set of tasks, and there was no way she would let him blame her for not completing them, so she stiffened her lip and faced the lock with wand in hand.

Mind set, angry and damning the consequences, her hand moved in quick bursts, and she growled, “Portaberto!” 

The lock broke off from the door, smoking. With quick hands, she grabbed what she needed from the one cabinet and opened the next with a bit more enthusiasm and even a smile. She lined the partitioned ingredients up across the table, divided out for individual use as well as a set meant for a demonstration though he never cared to provide the students with an example of proper technique. She used a mending charm to affix the locks back onto the doors despite wanting to leave them next to the ingredients out of spite, then went about the next thing on the list. The next thing on the list was to sort through a bunch of boxes that she found in the closet with a little bit of snooping. She wasn’t quite sure how he wanted her to decipher what was important and what wasn’t, but he didn’t seem like one to care for decorum, so she assumed she was allowed some creative leeway. 

The boxes were mostly filled with book of all sorts, occasionally there was a trinket or two, usually fancy paperweight sort of objects, but the vast majority said little about his personality which in turn said a lot. Professor Snape cared very little for things like vanity. He was focused on scientific interests and magical interventions. All of his books focusing on factual evidence and events. It was entirely drab and uninteresting. His books were well used, rough and worn, a testament to his disinterest in appealing to social fads, all the while expressing his deep devotion towards science and magic. Or, if Colette was feeling particularly paranoid, it was a testament on how he wanted others to believe him to be intellectual and far from vain. She leaned to the former rather than the latter, which chipped slowly away at her anger towards him, but she cautioned herself against it. She reminded herself it was easy to romanticize someone into being something they weren’t, and Professor Snape was far from a misunderstood bookworm that her mind was unintentionally pegging him to be. He was a brutal but smart man that intentionally degraded people to make him feel more important, and it would do her good to remember that.

The most interesting thing she found beyond the human skull that she assumed was real, was a photo of a woman. Her hair was light colored, from what Colette could tell from the black and white image, her teeth straight and perfect. Her skin was pale, and her smile seemed almost contagious despite there being nothing particularly special about it. If anything, Colette believed the unknown woman had a simple beauty, nothing outstanding about her, but her smile hinted at a good heart. It was confusing that a man like Professor Snape would have a picture of such a woman. With a personality as malignant as his, she’d assume he had no care for the other sex unless it was for a quick romp to satisfy his baser needs if he even had interest in such thing. Never would she have guessed he would have liked a goodhearted woman like the one in the picture, and he had to have liked her. That picture was the only hint of humanity in the entire assortment of boxes that Colette had pieced through, and if anything it was a little heart warming. Maybe he had a heart in there somewhere. He couldn’t be a grouch all the time, not when he had such an endearing picture of a girl with such a sweet smile. That being said, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be see this side of him. If anything, she knew he would be furious. Colette was under no delusions as to why she was there in the first place, and she just knew that he downright hated her. Her happening upon the picture had to have been an honest mistake, and she was keen on not letting him found out she knew, so she took the photo an shoved it back into the book it fell out of and hurriedly continued to put things away. She had finally finished the list four hours in and left the room with a tired sigh, stomach gurgling along the way. 

\----------- 

Snape was exhausted. Despite Dumbledore’s intervention with the Ministry of Magic, he found himself once more being questioned about his involvement with the deatheaters. It had been a year since the incident, and he had suspicions that they were interrogating him once more to see if his story would change. The Ministry was extremely cautious, likely due to Dumbledore’s constant warning that the Dark Lord was not dead, and they wanted to see if he had any useful information concerning the remainders of the evil sect or of the dark lord himself. Of course he wasn’t, but to refuse being interrogated would just confirm their pointless suspicions concerning his character and circumstances so he found himself on a Saturday morning recalling the events of the war. The details ran from his mouth like clockwork, each carefully chosen and engraved into his mind by Dumbledore himself, but he still found the time dragging on. He despised the fact that he was wasting his time to assuage the paranoid minds of individuals who never suffered the dangers in the first place, but locked that anger deep within his mind. 

By the time he finally got back to Hogwarts, he had a raging headache that throbbed dully in his mind, and it was late into the afternoon. He had missed his detention with the annoying little Gryffindor and was almost grateful for the fact knowing he wouldn’t have to listen to her obnoxious high pitched voice, but at the same time he hated that he didn’t get to see the devastated and horrified look on her face at all the work he would make her do. The girl was an absolute spoilt brat, he knew, and she likely never had to do a single thing for herself. As a pureblood Rosier, she had to have been raised in the lap of luxury even despite the fact her father was an outcast. A princess who didn’t know how to shut her trap and recognize that the everyone did not have to bow to her every whim. It would do her some good to learn how to shut up and stop trying to talk her way out of things. He drug himself to bed with a tired groan, thinking about his list of work that he had to do before Monday. Despite it not being much work with the use of the wand, he still dreaded doing anything when his head hurt so.


End file.
